My Hostage, Not Yours 4: 9 Days of Doom
by RavenFollower13
Summary: The 4th to the Saga. The gang is grown now and things are as chaotic as ever. But what DID happen that time that Iggins broke out? The uprising against the Empire? Yet another momentous kidnapping occurred? Hey, whatever happened to Zim's hometown and other characters of the Group? A whole lot, that's what.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I caved. Call it nostalgia, or whatever, but after all I wrote, I felt like this needed a better ending. And here it is.

Enjoy my Nostalgianess. M because it's chapter one, and bitches are already naked. So really, what else can I get myself into here?

**MERRY. FLIPPIN'. CHRISTMAS.** (Screw your unoffensive/diverse 'happy holidays'. It's. Mothatfuckin'. CHRISTMAS. STOP BEING SO SENSITIVE.)

**Because nothing says Merry Christmas like families being ripped to shreds.**

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**Literally.**

ENJOY.

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**_My Hostage Not Yours 4: Nine Days_**

**Chapter 1  
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It was kind of cold, admittedly.

Tak's new sensitive skin was not used to this weather yet. Even MiMi seemed to eye the surrounding weather as it if it was the enemy, gently padding a foot against the snow and hissing as she recoiled.

Surrounding the area, she was well aware that the weather was actually rather warm. But the Sanctuary (as Dib had so clichely named their reserve) was running on the time the agents were used to. In fact the younger members seemed to be enjoying it, since children had been born in the few years time they'd been on the reserve. The younger former-agents as well were enjoying their time here, the older if not reluctantly, but begrudgingly participating in their half-life. After a few momentous riot-like occasions, they'd come to terms with their wrong-doings against the new empire and were starting to settle. For some, the transition was so smooth, if in ten years time they continued on this streak, Dib was going to consider petitioning Zim to let some of them go, if they wanted to.

Some people liked the protection the Sanctuary held. Their children were safe, there was no crime, and life was easy and simple. They practiced new jobs and Dib had made friends with the more forgiving Swollen Eyeball Members. The older, more traditional men were not quite as friendly to either him or Tak, but the presence of children certainly made them act a bit more civil. Much to Tak's distaste, the little ones had a particular fondness of MiMi, since she was the closest thing they had to a pet.

Many times Tak had gone to the window, watching her SIR unit, darting around through the snow drifts and sending them up in the air, making the children giggle and play so that she wouldn't have to let them touch her. On any normal occasion, she'd disregard them entirely, but considering they'd probably be dealing with them for some time, MiMi was adjusting. Much better then Tak was, as the alien princess (a title Zim had bestowed upon her, giving her boyfriend a title as well) still disliked the screaming, giggling things. Even the anti-social Membrane liked them better then she did, as the absent fatherly-figure had apparently picked up _some_ affection tips when he'd been around his kids. Dib, obviously, was having no problems whatsoever with the little ones.

Dib sighed at these thoughts about his girlfriend's head, rolling over in his bed to face his beloved. She was fast asleep, white skin faintly glowing as the light from their fifth-story window peered through and rested on her flesh. Admittedly, his was glowing a bit as well, but he was more interested in watching Tak then himself. Besides, his body was marred with faint scratches and marks, some from his childhood and some from the times Tak had gotten a bit too rough with him, for whatever reason. She never admitted to feeling bad during these accidents, but the silent, careful way she treated his injuries was proof enough of any guilt she had.

Unable to help himself, Dib let his hand ghost across her face, which instinctively warmed to the touch. He smiled at she let out a breath, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep. It was around five, he could see the number glowing behind her on the digital clock. He couldn't help but chuckle quietly, wrapping his hand around her waist and pushing her closer to him, so that his chest was against hers. Although admittedly, hers was a lot more comfortable then his was.

He watched calmly as Tak's eyes fluttered open, immediately reacting to the slightest jostling. It was difficult not to wake Tak, but Dib was actually getting a lot better at it.

"Nngg," She murmured, blinking a few times before her eyes flicked up to Dib's, tiredly. "Dib?"

"Morning Tak," He replied quietly, kissing her gently on the forehead.

"What time is it?"

"Five."

Pearly whites appeared in the darkness as her lips curled back in a disgruntled snarl. "Then why am I up?"

"Because you are too sensitive in your sleep." Dib replied, bending his head down to kiss her neck, progressively making the motion a seductive one.

Dib was getting good at a lot of things.

She eyed him with the possessive, Irken instinct she was accustomed to. Her deep, violet eyes were beginning to smolder as she took in the form of her boyfriend's chest above the blankets, taking in every familiar imperfection and expanse of pale flesh stretched over lean muscle.

It was this expression of desire on her face that made competely understandable that Dib smirked at her. His fingertips began running up and down her arm, barely brushing his skin with hers. "Someones in an awfully kinky mood this morning."

Tak kept her cool, eying him with the severity of an emotion Dib was becoming all too familiar with. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

Dib chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing her bare body forcefully against his own. "Your nose is growing, Pinnochio."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. And yet she made no move to distangle herself from his grip. "I find that I've very little in common with the magic puppet that children are so fond of. Magic isn't even_ real_."

"Over a decade ago, neither were aliens," Dib reminded her good-naturedly. "And look how much progress Earth has made now."

"Your sister is the credit to that," she corrected. "As is Zim, and the wonders of Irken technology. But magic will never be real."

"Have I ever told you that you'd be a wonderful mother? You're so full of child-like wonder and frivolous belief."

"So it's been said," she said, moving closer to him. "But I'm curious as to know why we are still talking, and not doing something else yet."

"Well you started it."

"Somehow, I doubt that. But I'll just end it then, won't I?"

Dib was already laughing when she kissed him, encompassing his lips with hers in a tender movement. However, unfortunately for the young couple, they didn't get much farther than this when MiMi came darting through the door. Instantly they were alert, ready for some sort of bad news. The mood was killed almost instantly. (1)

"_What is it?_" Tak demanded.

Dib, as usual, didn't understand a word of what was spoken between the two. But the years had given him patience, and with it, a collected demeanor as he waited for the news. Finally, Tak's eyes widened, a thoughtful expression appearing on her face. She turned to her lover, tapping him on the backside as she extracated herself from their sheets.

"Get dressed," she ordered. "We're leaving."

"What?" Dib shouted, alarmed, eyes darting between the two occupants of the room. "Why? Is everything alright?"

Tak smiled at him, crawling slowly over to him to peck him on the cheek. "Nothing's wrong, Dib. It's good news."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she replied, locking eyes with him. "Your sister says the baby has just been born."

Anxiety sling-shotted his stomach into his throat. The gulp that followed made an audible, particularly noticeable noise. "_A-And_?"

"What else?" She asked, inquisitively. Then a light filtered into her eyes, the opportunity for a joke irresistable. "Oh yes, that's right. I suppose you want to know the gender, don't you?"

"Well, obviously!" Dib shouted, exasperated by her nonchalant attitude.

Tak smirked at him wickedly. "I suppose you'll just have to wait until we get there to find out, won't you?"

* * *

**17 YEARS LATER**

* * *

**Day 1: Pt. 1**

It was August. The midsummer air was warm and unpleasantly sticky.

And therefore, wrong.

Air was cold, invisible, and otherwise unnoticed. The middle-child of elements. It should not have the ability to leave behind a residue. Especially not one so foul. Or so that was what they claimed. And who was he to know any better?

Oh, that's right.

He was the Emperor of the once-free-World.

Zim strode with mild irritation through the damp Virginian air swarming- still unwelcome- through his castle. It'd been over twenty years, and everyone knew better than to bother him with any nonsense. Especially today. Even his rambunctious minions had found more comfortable (and less destructive) means to entertain themselves.

In or out of context, Zim's surroundings made him feeling extremely out of place. Hot summer evenings were for the settings of inspirational 1930's non-fiction literature books, not the alien rulers of the world to storm his castle in. Well, served him right for not planning better when he could, right? Then again, he _had_ planned for a March celebration instead . . .

He shook the thought off. Contemplation could be saved for another time. Right now he had to plan and pursue.

Several minutes later, he waited, impatiently, by the door, after knocking briskly several times. It opened, and a pair of hellish red eyes peeked briefly out before opening completely, revealing the eyes, in actuality, to be nothing more than sharply tipped glasses with a strange reflection. Although Zim had his suspicions about the latter.

"_Yees_?" An authorative, scratchy voice drawled out. "What do you want?"

Zim nodded his head politely. "Ms. Bitters."

"Oh, hello." She mumbled, boredly, adjusting her glasses with fingers that would do better without a description. "Horrible day this morning, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he said, resisting the urge to complain about it. He glanced over her shoulder, into the sliver of room not blotted out by the elderly woman's unnatural frame. "How was she today?"

"She's a model of a student," she sneered in disgust. "It's positively distasteful for a child to demonstrate such intelligence."

"She's doing well, then?" He inquired.

A harsh noise somewhere between a grunt and a hiss spilled forth from the long-retired public school teacher's lips.

"Yes," she spat, unwillingly. Spiderlike hands pushed the door open, revealing the makeshift classroom that had once been a lab. "Come here, child. Class is over for today. Get out of my sight."

If anyone else had said that to his daughter, or any of his family for that matter, they would've been dead by now. However Zim had long since adjusted to the ever-frustrated and unpleasant attitude that was the tutor's nature. He had himself been taught by her, after all.

A small rustling of papers was heard before a girl no older then thirteen in appearance appeared next to the incredibly ugly old woman in black.

Zim smiled.

At first glance, she could've been mistaken as some long-last sibling of the Empress and her brother. At close inspection, however, she looked almost nothing like neither of them.

Almost.

She was far more petite than any size her mother had ever been, or at least, that anyone could remember. While her mother was a tall, well-curved figure of a woman, this girl was slender and more agile-looking. Like a little pixie instead of a fatally attractive weapon capable of mass destruction.

And if it weren't for her father's eyes, she might've been capable as looking as innocent as one too.

The girl fidgeted under Mrs. Bitters gaze, taking her father's hand and tugging lightly on it. He bowed, and awkwardly, she did the same.

"Good day, Mrs. Bitters."

The woman grunted, nodded, and disappeared in a black, quick dart.

They waited a heartbeat, as if expecting her to reappear. When she did not, the girl deamed her opinion safe enough to speak. And at her quiet whisper, probably not intended for anyone else's ear (or antennae, for that matter), Zim shot her a sharp look.

"Nobody likes her." He replied. "But it's impolite to say."

Ignoring this, she looked around.

"Your mother is talking to your uncle and aunt about today's parade." He bent down and picked her up easily, every bit as light as she looked. They made their way down the hall as such, with the girl securely situated on his near non-existent hip. "Are you excited for your birthday?"

She nodded, fiddling with her long pigtails. Eventually, she settled on running her hands through one of them. A bad habit of hers she'd picked up from her aunt was the constant need to do something with her hands.

Zim frowned at this. "What did your mother say about using your words?"

She leaned her head on his collarbone, and shrugged.

"Young lady," he said, in a warning tone.

She just sighed.

Zim smiled, pecking her lightly on the top of her head. "And you haven't changed your mind about the festival, than?"

There was a small grumble.

"I had to ask." He replied, neutrally. "You seem moody today."

She scowled, looking more like her mother than she normally did.

"What happened?"

Nothing.

"Mal," he warned, adjusting her on his hip to face him better.

She looked at her hair.

Zim rolled his eyes. He'd been waiting for this one. "Did your tutor tell you the world was going to implode on itself?"

Further silence. But it was less hesitant.

"_Was_, Mal. Was. Daddy fixed it. I am amazing like that, you know."

She gave him a look.

He smirked. "I simply put pride where pride is due."

Another mumble.

Zim's antennae rose. "When did you have time to talk to _them_? They only got here last night. And you were asleep. Did you wake up early?"

A nod.

"Ah, yes, well, they lie." He ammended, simply.

She seemed intrigued.

"Everyone does, at one point or another," he continued. "Especially when they feel threatened."

Her gaze turned suspicious.

"Yes, yes I have. Many times. It was a long time ago," he said, briefly running his hands through her hair. "Daddy doesn't do it much anymore."

Further suspicion. A silent accusation.

He smiled. "Don't worry, Mal. You've never asked something that I or your mother couldn't answer."

A slow, reluctant look of acceptance overcame her. She seemed willing to let it rest, for now.

"_Now_ what are you doing to bother my niece, space-boy?"

Zim looked up, frowning with mild disaste at the sight of Dib with a towel around his neck in the courtyard, next to the pool Gaz had installed some years ago, when Mal was 6, and she decided the girl needed to learn how to swim.

"Put a shirt on, Dib-stink. Your bleached complexion is hurting my eyes," he complained. Mal's face broke out into a grin as she laughed quietly with her father.

"Oh ha-frickin'-ha, Zim." He said, with an eye roll, ruffling the towel through his hair. Meanwhile, Mal wondered at the spike on top of her uncle's head. Even wet, it retained its scythe-like composure. She was about to ask him about it when a screech interrupted her.

"Lookit me!" Gir screeched, at the top of his lungs as he spun on the edge of the roof. "I'm a bird! MOO! _**MOOO**_!"

"Gir!" Zim snapped, shooting the robot a look that promised violence. "Get down from there this instant!"

"_Canonball!_" He yelled, leaping. All of about ten feet. He hit the ground with ease, pissing the pool entirely, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He turned back to the water, peering at it curiously. "Ooh, the people so small. Or . . . am I . . . _big_?"

Mal smirked slightly at the robot's nonsensicaly ramblings, almost as fond of the creature she thought of as her close family pet when a blue streak shot across the roof, diving towards Gir and tackling him before anything could be done. A brief scuffle between blue and silver broke out for a few seconds. It ended with MiMi shimmering into appearance, sitting on a struggling Gir's stomach with triumphant finality. Even without the ability of tongues, the two (mostly) human occupants in the area could understand the beeps that followed.

_"I win."_ She announced, flicking her tail briefly over his face. Gir pouted and started a high, keening whine of complaint. She hissed in complaint, ears falling flat against her head, obviously irritated.

Mal's eyes lit up. A small gasp was released from her parted lips.

The cat's ears perked, directing towards the child. Upon meeting her eyes she leaped nimbly over to her, in a fashion similar to that of a deer. Zim set her on the floor and she kneeled to embrace the kitty she also considered hers. A fact that privately irked Tak, but one Mal remained oblivious of, at the decision of the four adults in her life, minus her grandfather.

Speaking of which.

She held it closely to her, letting her fingers play idly with her ears. She then glanced at Gir, briefly, before shooting said cat the look that came at the beginning of every scolding.

"Aw, we was just playing, Misses," Gir interrupted, snuggling up against her side. "MiMi and I is _frriiiends_."

Mal seemed mildly pleased with this response, nodding and cuddling the two as she watched her father and uncle bicker comfortably about the going-ons for today. How the ceremony was supposed to go, the security, etc. Mal chose to ignore it, and for the moment, they let her be.

The sound of heals on the tile was what finally caught Zim's attention.

"What do you think you're doing out here?" An irritated voice snapped, catching their attention.

Mal turned sharply.

All eyes locked to the figure standing idly at the edge of the shadows. Though, never truly idle. Tense. Waiting for something. In this case, it turned out to be a hug, rushing to her from her young daughter. Mal's head reached just up to her stomach and she smiled slightly, patting her on the head, running delicate-looking white fingers through her hair.

Gaz shot her husband a severe look, and he wilted slightly under the gaze that never dulled in intensity.

"You were supposed to have her upstairs half an hour ago," she said, pressing her hand against her daughter's back, to keep her close. Mal became slightly uncomfortable between the two.

Zim offered her a weak smile, Dib retreating out of the pool and towards the benches, inconspicuously, giving the small family a wide berth.

"Eh, my apologies, love." He said, walking over to her and kissing her warmly on the cheek. "I lost track of time."

"Mhmm," she mumbled, with an eye roll. "At any rate." She removed a small box from behind her back, just bigger than the palm of her hand. "I believe this is for you."

Red eyes, what Gaz liked to call 'her father's eyes', lit up with intrigue, flicking briefly to her mother's face, her head tilted to the side.

"Yes, yes it is for you." Gaz said. "But save it for later, alright? I want you to open it in private with me; it's got a bit of a story behind it that I want to tell you."

Mal's gaze turned thoughtful, taking the box from her mother's hands and holding it carefully in her own. Her brows furrowed, but she nodded.

"Hey!" A voice called out, indignantly. "Weren't you going to wait for us?"

The small family turned, the girl smiling slightly when she saw who it was.

"Hello, kiddo," Tak replied evenly, stooping slightly to ruffle her hair.

She squirmed away automatically, fixing the long pigtails of magenta back into place. Mal had his thing about her hair that no one could come up with a genetic explanation for. Gaz, though used to the wardrobe appropriate for someone of her title, was still not very meticulous about her looks. And frankly, neither was Zim. However, while their daughter was very much the same way about her appearance (modeled mostly after her mother, save a few pointedly noticeable differences), she just didn't like her hair to be fussed up. And yet no one in the family really made any effort to correct her; in fact, they enjoyed riling the only child in the family up by messing up her pigtails.

"Happy Birthday," Tak stated, politely.

Despite Tak's best of efforts, she wasn't as affectionate as Dib might've liked her to have been with the girl. Not that Mal ever noticed her aunt's lack of enthusiasm. Her family was strange; and to her, especially with the mother she had, monotonous was hardly far from normal. It wasn't for lack of trying, either. But when it came to children, Tak just couldn't find herself as exuberant as Zim was.

MiMi darted lightly off of her master's arm, crawling easily onto her place on Mal's. The girl gave her a light pat on the head as MiMi proceeded to drop a small silver-wrapped box in her outstretched palm, a large blue bow placed atop it.

"I don't see why we should have," Zim countered to Tak's earlier statement, his arm now around his wife's waist. "After all, there's hardly a time-limit one has to follow after the first present has been giving on ones day of birth."

"I believe he meant it out of politeness, Zim," Gaz informed him, smirking and pecking him lightly on the mouth before moving to sit on one of the stone bench's outside. Mal noticed and quickly followed her mother's example.

Zim grinned, shooting his in-law a venemous, smug look. "Oh. In that case, Zim refuses to be polite to you in any circumstances. I fail to see why you would have believed otherwise!"

Dib rolled his eyes, replacing his goggles over his eyes. "Are you ever going to get over your ego?"

"Of course not! Zim is far too amazing!"

By this time, Mal had sat herself comfortably on her mother's lap, with Gaz's hands resting on her waist. Both presents were on her legs, one a long, slender rectangle, that her father had handed her as she passed, and her uncle and aunt's resting beneath it. It seemed small in comparison, though in fact it was about a medium sized box. She decided to not point this out for politeness sake. She did have her manners to remember, after all.

"Alright, that's enough," Gaz spoke, cutting through their bickering. Tak had left her husband (of about eleven years, now; Mal had been the flower girl) to sit on the couch opposite the pair, and had been ignoring the exchange entirely. "It's time for presents."

"Of course, love," Zim agreed at once, sitting next to both of them. Dib, too, sat down, next to Tak. Meanwhile, the robots conjugated themselves on the floor, with Gir eagerly awaiting the opportunity to consume the wrapping paper. "Go ahead, Mal."

Slender, pale hands made quick work of the paper, tossing it automatically to Gir and her pets. MiMi's tail flicked back and forth irritably, watching Gir through one narrowed eye as he and Minimoose immediately began playing with the colored wrapping paper. Where the freaky little moose had come from, she did not know. He had this unnerving habit of simply appearing that the makeshift-cat did not enjoy at all.

She held up the garment, eyes widening with practiced surprise. Although she did in fact like it. She beamed.

Tak smiled, slightly. It had been her idea to get the girl new clothes, Dib being as clueless and unhelpful as ever when it came to shopping for her birthday present. They'd had to get it custom-made to fit Mal's unique style, something Zim himself had designed for the latest human-trend, but by the look in her eyes, it was well worth it. Mal then found the ribbons for to help tie up her hair, and a satisfied smile appeared on her face.

Because they couldn't forget the hair, now could they?

She approvingly looked to her parents.

"Do you want to wear it to the parade?" Zim asked. She nodded. The parents shared a look before he shrugged. "I don't see why not. You'll be wearing a cloak over it, though. People probably won't see it, or your face, for that matter."

She shrugged before putting the things back in their box and pushing it onto the bench to make room for her father's long one. Dib's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He had a feeling what their gift might be, and he genuinely disapproved if it was what he thought it was. Tak, already well aware of the present, was resisting a laugh at her husband's reaction.

Mal beamed when she opened it.

Dib's hand went to his face in disbelief at what he considered their irresponsible actions.

She wielded it carefully, eying the shiny, sharp, intricately crafted piece. Zim had made it himself and imprinted her name in Irken on the hilt, as well as some human saying on the actual sword itself. Of course, not even Mal could read Irken yet, so it was really just there to look cool. She looked eagerly to her parents.

"A sword is not a toy," Dib cut in, sternly. "You be very careful with that thing, Mal. You could get hurt."

"She's seventeen," Tak replied, crossing her arms behind her head and shooting him a smirk. "I don't see why she can't handle a weapon of her own. At that age, I was already in the training academy, and had handled far more dangerous items than that."

"Mal is not training to be an Irken Invader," Dib shot back. "She's just a little girl, and should be treated like one."

Said child stuck her tongue out at him childishly, pouting. Zim snickered, and Gaz shot her a look, making her retract her expression immediately. Despite this reaction though, Dib's point did have some merit to it.

"At any rate, it's time to get ready," Gaz announced. Really, Mal was the only one still running around in her pajamas; a pair of black shorts and a dark purple t-shirt, basically what she normally wore to bed. Ms. Bitters hardly cared what she wore to tutoring. Or, at least, she never seemed to disapprove further than she generally did. She patted her on her lower back, the signal to get up. "Come on. If you want to wear the clothes, bring the box with us. I'll help you tie your hair up."

She mumbled, back to her usual unemotional attitude. Another thing about living in a house like this; while easily excitable, Mal was also easily bored or disinterested.

The two left, leaving Zim to the 'in-laws'.

Dib sighed, "You really want her out there today? The whole city plus some is going to be there. It could be dangerous, with all the rumors of her going to be there today, for once."

Zim's eyes narrowed at where his family had disappeared. "I'm well aware of the risks. But this is all she wanted for her birthday. Besides, even without the protection, she's more than capable of taking care of herself if attacked. Zim made sure of this, as did your sister."

"Consider the risk of exposure, Zim." Tak hissed, leaning towards him as she spoke quickly. "You remember what happened to Gaz after . . . Well. You know."

He waved a hand. "I will protect my smeet with my life and anything my PAK has to offer. As well as Gaz, MiMi, Gir, Minimoose, you both, and the entire army. There isn't a force on the planet that could threaten her without someone intervening first."

"Yeah, I know," Dib sighed, running his hand across the thickened scythe in his hair. "Still. I worry, ya know? She's the only 'offspring' we've got in the family thus far."

"Which is unlikely to change anytime soon." Tak reminded them. "I don't _do_ kids."

Zim smirked at her. "Neither did Gaz."

"Yes," Tak stated, idly, shooting Zim a warning glare not to explore further on the subject, careful to lower her voice in case of unexpected ears. "_And look how _that's_ turned out._"

"Tak," Dib said quickly, angrily.

Tak turned away, hearing the audible snap as Zim's jaw clenched. Her ears burned at her words, regretting them the moment they came out. Against her better judgement, Tak had grown fond of the little Membrane girl. She felt slightly ashamed for having spoken about . . . _her misfortunes_. Zim had said nothing thus far, but there was a crack as his knuckles clenched and popped. For several tense moments, no one said anything.

_Mal was not a normal child._

_And isolated from the world to keep her from knowing it._

"I am . . . sorry," Tak said, finally. "I mispoke."

Zim swallowed his anger, forcing his squeedily-spooch to stop boiling. He needn't be so sensitive. He let out a breath. "It's . . . alright."

"What I meant was," she clarified, uncomfortably, in an attempt to brush off the moment. "She's human. Irkens don't have paternal instincts."

"Zim is a wonderful parent," Zim scoffed, falling back into the pace of the conversation with some effort. "Look how perfect my smeet is! She would be wonderful at anything wherever she is; Irken, human, or otherwise."

"Based off of what standards?" Tak teased, careful to keep her voice down. Mal's room was several hallways away, but still. It didn't hurt to be careful. "Her manners are more regal than polite, her combat training is incomplete, her agility only lasts as long as her stamina does, and she has an unexplainable attachment to something as unreliable as her _hair_. What perfection is there to speak of?"

"My design, and therefore my little girl, is perfect." Zim said again, with finality. "You are simply filled with jealousy at the amazingness she's inherited from her father."

"Oh, yes, of course. That's it." She said, with an eye roll. She stood up, gesturing to her husband. "Come on. We should be getting ready, too."

"Right; go on ahead without me. I'm gonna grab my things."

The two shared a look. And then, Tak looked away, and nodded. She took her leave. The two men in the room waited until she was gone.

Dib sighed, "Hey, Zim-."

"Don't, Dib." He said, holding a gloved palm up. He took a deep breath, eyes closed. "Just . . . _don't_."

Dib watched his tense companion, who had grown to be very much like the family he was supposed to be over the years. Arguing and general disaste for one another's attitude that they still maintaned, some things were more important than petty formalities.

"How is everything? Here, I mean. I know we're just visiting, and we don't have time to check-in as much as we should, running the Reserve and all, but . . . is she . . . are they . . . okay?"

"They are fine," he assured them. "Your sister has been doing well for some time, as has our daughter. I keep close tabs on them both. And they'll stay fine. I'll make sure of it."

Dib placed his hand firmly on Zim's shoulder, offering him a genuine, supportive smile. "Yeah. I know you will."

Zim's antennae wilted, smiling back. He shrugged Dib's hand off with mock-disgust a few seconds later.

"Ugh, do not touch me with your filthy germs." He hissed, irritably. "Now go find your mate, sickly creature; Zim has more important things to do than to attempt to do this 'bonding' thing you humans are so found of."

Dib scoffed. "You're such a germaphobe, Zim."

"Zim has no phobias to speak of!"

"You do too!"

"You lie!"

"You're the liar!"

* * *

Gaz idly combed her daughter's hair, half of it hanging limply over the front of her shoulder, and the other resting in her hand as she brushed it. They could hear the muffled yelling as the two walked together down the hallway from here, getting more distant as it went.

"They're not really mad," Gaz assured her, kindly. "It's just a bad habit of theirs I can't seem to break them of yet."

Mal seemed to accept this answer easily. But Gaz was not so easily fooled.

"You're fidgeting," she pointed out, chin inclining towards where her daughter pinched the bottom of her hair together. Mal's hand instantly went to her lap. "What is it, Mal?"

The child's hands brushed against the small box, seated next to her on the bed.

Gaz put the brush down, reaching across the bed and handing her the small, black velvet case. "Go ahead."

Mal carefully removed the red ribbon, letting it fall to her lap without incident. She then pried the case apart, curious, brows furrowing at the contents inside the case. Having her situated on her lap, it was an easy feat for Gaz to look over her shoulder.

"Do you like it?"

Mal turned to her mother, uncomfortably, as if afraid to touch it. It was plain, with a shininess that suggested it held more devious secrets than what it was willing to immediately reveal.

"A necklace," Gaz replied, lifting it from the box to dangle in her face. "My necklace, from when I was your age. Thirteen. Just like you."

She gazed on in wonder, cupping her hands. Gaz let it fall into her palms, watching her marvel at it. A small smile crept to her face.

"This necklace kept me very safe throughout my childhood and teenage years," her mother explained, going back to fix her hair, a task that had become very routine for the two. "When the time comes, it'll keep you safe, too. So I want you to promise me you'll always keep it with you. Okay?"

She turned in her arms, hair secure, to smile at her. A warmth, so treasured, that only she seemed capable of projecting, that said it all.

Gaz smiled, and for a moment, Mal wondered if she was going to cry. But the glossiness had gone from her eyes as quick as it had come, and Mal decided it was nothing more than a trick of the lighting in her room.

She kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you too, Mal."

* * *

(1) Lol, cock-block.

Wow, okay, this is probably one of the longest introduction chapters I've ever written. I wanted to get more in there, but, alas, I guess the parade can be in the next chapter.

The "Seventeen Years Later" is no typo. Nor is Mal's age.

It's been seventeen years, with the addition of the time passed beforehand.

Mal is thirteen.

Gaz/Mal's issues.

Tak's careless words.

This isn't even the main-plot for the story. It's just a side-plot I came up with as I was writing that brought a touch of realism into this sci-fi story, a sad little thing I hadn't quite worked out but wanted to put in here, it being a subject that recently touched my family very hard.

At any rate, **I'M BACK**. OH YEAH BABY, WE'RE BACK FOR THE REAL FINALE TO THE ONCE-TRILOGY. What is this now? A four-story saga? A quadrilogy? I don't know. Quadrilogy seems pretty good. Yeah. Quadrilogy. Let's go with that.

I'm so excited for this installment to the story! It brings back memories and nostalgia like no other as the story that not only made me well-known on fanfiction, but the easiest story I've ever written. Ever. Let's hope this story proves just as easy to write. :)

**Daily Quote: ~In US History Class~**

**Friend: When I run for president, and I win-  
Me: Oh of course.  
Friend: - my inaugaration speech is going to be, "I just want to let you all know how grateful I am to be your president." And as soon as someome asks me how I'm going to fix some worldly problem or another, I'm going to say, "The answer to that, my friend, is we SUCK THEIR DIX! Dix. With an X."  
Other Friend: Why the X?  
Friend: Well for X-rated, of course!  
Me: If you ever run for president and win, the whole world is suddenly going to be infected with AIDS and STD's of unfathomable proportions.  
Friend: 'MERICUH, FUCK YEAH.  
Teacher: What are you all saying over here?  
All: Nothing!**

Not as funny without the grumbling shriek my friend said this in, but I still think it was funny. Also, anytime my teacher asks a question on how a problem in America was solved back when America was first getting on it's feet in the 1800's, at least one of us whispers, "WE SUCK THEIR DICKS" to each other.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, onto chapter two. Still day one. I have a schedule to keep, and an outline that's helping me tremendously. Words cannot describe the usefulness of outlines.

Let me know how you guys are handling Mal thus far. To be honest, I based a lot of her attitude off of myself and several of my companions, but mostly me. As a child, anyways.

**HAPPY NEW YEARS!** I noticed that my planned schedule of **updating every other Tuesday** has had me updating on two holidays. Kinda cool, huh?

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 2  
"Day 1: Pt. 2"**

"Now, you promise me you're going to stay in the carriage, alright, Mal?" Zim said, adjusting her hood carefully over her head, so as to disturb her hair as little as possible. He wasn't in the mood to hear her complain about it, too overwhelmed with todays events to be bothered with proper hair-care. She seemed to have no qualms about it. But she hadn't answered his question, instead averting her eyes to wonder at the scenes around her. His voice hardened, warningly. "Mal."

She ignored him, in favor of examing the surrounding people. Then she turned to look at him, inquiringly.

Zim nodded, "Yes, of course this is all for you. You're thirteen now. Why? Do you not like it?"

"I imagine she shares Gaz's disaste for large celebrations," Dib cut in, smiling at her from the window. He was to be in the cart behind, while Mal and Gaz sat in this one, and Zim in the front. A parade of this proportions required them to be spread out a little, though they were separated by no more than two floats. "Don't ya, kiddo?"

She wilted, but the shy smile was all that needed to be said.

"Told you," Dib smirked at Zim, then went back to his niece. "You look really pretty, Mal."

A bit of her irritated nature showed through. MiMi was currently curled up against her side, as her master had temporarily dismissed her while she helped Gaz ready herself. Gir occuppied her other side, content to suck on his Irken-based humanoid treat, a product Zim had introduced on Mal's sixth birthday. She tugged, complainingly, on her hood.

"You'll see, it's for the better, baby." Dib assured her. "Now, where's your mother?"

She shrugged, mumbling, before turning her attention back to the floats in front and behind her, gazing out at them from her window with unmistakeable awe. She'd never seen such extravagance, even in her house. So colorful and pretty.

The two adults took their leave unnoticed, speaking more seriously to themselves.

"The army is ready?" Dib asked, heading towards his float.

Zim nodded. "Of course. They're lining the streets and have successfully integrated into the parade. There are no flaws in the design. Gaz and Mal will be safe, as will the rest of us during this little _celebration_."

Dib noticed his condescension, raising a brow. "I see Gaz and Mal aren't the only ones suffering from a lack of enthusiasm."

"I've never been one for frivulous things such as _parties_." He spat, rolling his eyes. "You know this."

"Yeah, yeah, excuses, excuses. At least be happy for Mal. Even if she won't admit it in favor of pouting, she really is excited for this."

Zim sighed, waving him off. "Enough of your consolations, Dib-monkey. Go help your wife with whatever it is she is doing and leave me to my own business."

Dib punched him lightly on the shoulder before seeing himself off, ignoring the rudeness that was his brother-in-law's usual way of talking. Zim sighed, rubbing his temples and muttering to himself. He'd surely have a headache by the end of the day, but if it made his daughter happy, surely he could find a way to endure it. Maybe even enjoy himself while doing so.

He scoffed. Yeah. Like _that_ would happen.

"You look stressed." Gaz noted, gently sliding the tips of her fingertips along the hairs of his antennae. Zim stilled, instantly, as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Anything I can do to help?"

He kissed her tentatively on the forehead, resting his cheek against hers. Briefly, he inhaled. Somewhere in the distance, music started. Some sort of trumpet orchestration. Then he sighed. "No. I believe I've done all I could for now, anyways. Come. We should get in the carriage."

"Alright,_ pushy_," she muttered. When he shot her a dark look, she simply grinned, allowing herself to get into the cart. Mal turned away from the window, a curious expression on her face.

"Speakers, set up along the road," Zim said. "Sit down properly; I don't want you getting hurt when the cart moves."

She did, and several seconds later, the cart moved. Something akin to a royal instrumental introduction began the precise moment their cart hit the streets, much to Zim's approval. Gaz leaned comfortably against her husbands side, both of them watching as once again Mal disregarded their warnings about sitting properly. Her face was practically smooshed against the glass, Gir now waking up and sitting on her head. The two shared a look, understanding the futality of further reprimanding. Mal remained ignorant of their acquiescence, and simply continued ogling (with as much dignity as she could remember to keep about herself) at the sights outside the window.

"It's confetti," Gaz said glancing curiously at Zim. He shrugged, to encompassed in his own thoughts to really care about where the crowd had gotten the decorative, useless pieces of multicolored paper from. He'd have to arrange to have that cleaned up . . .

She wondered quietly at the sight around her. She leaned slightly away from the window, feeling somehow claustrophobic. Surrounded by this many people was starting to get to her, even with the white and gold garbed soldiers lining the streets. She pointed accusing glares at them.

"They chose to come of their own accord," Zim said, quickly. A fact he didn't want her to misinterpret. "They want to celebrate your birthday with you."

A defined frown appeared from under her hood.

Gaz snickered, "Creepy, isn't it?"

Both pointedly ignored Zim's exasperated huff.

"Lookit!" Gir screeched. No one had really noticed that he'd woken up from his small nap. "He gotta pumpkin head!"

And Mal's attentions were enraptured once more.

The music switched into some sort of flute melody, and Zim saw some of the onlookers start dancing or swaying with their significant other. He wrapped an arm around Gaz and rested his chin on her foreahead. Mal started to mimic the people, waking MiMi up. The cat growled but begrudgingly sat up, stretching its limbs briefly.

_**POP!**_

Unaware she'd almost fallen asleep, Gaz peeked one eye open just in time to see a vibrant neon green fade from Mal's complexion, replaced quickly by a pink color. Zim lifted his head, unnoticed as he scanned the sky.

Mal's face drained of its initial excitement. Pale, tiny little fingers drummed nervously against MiMi's ribcage.

"They're just fireworks," Gaz said easily, dismissing her daughter's fears with a wave of her hand. Satisfied once again the girl turned away. It was at this time Gaz finally noticed Zim's apprehension. More quietly, she mumbled, "_What is it_?"

Matching her tone; "_I don't recall scheduling any fireworks._"

Mal practically shrieked as a birage of lights shot into the air at rapid succession, roughly in time with the music. After realizing the source of her fears to be nothing other than the fireworks, her face flushed red, and she burried her cheeks in her hood.

Red irises were lit with a fire the girl was unfamiliar with as they rocketed into the sky from far away, forming their own circular, brief constellations before fading away, only to be replaced. While the noise that accompanied them was unpleasant, the benefit of such an unfamiliar sight far outweighed the slight discomfort in her ears.

Zim continued to scowl, his head racing until Gaz nudged him, with an impatient look.

"_Stop being so paranoid,_" she ordered. "_It's probably just a gesture of appreciation._"

He continued to look unconvinced.

"They're _fireworks_, Zim." She hissed, in disbelief. "What could they _possibly_ do?"

Mal continued to stare with Gir, ignoring her parents quiet conversation behind her. It was kind of hard to hear them anyways over the parade itself, the orchestra's music, and the general populace. Briefly, to her left, she saw a large screen that projected her aunt and uncle's face on it, flashing to her hooded one just before it went out of her view. She vigorously began waving through the window, for some reason instinctually aware that this was what she was supposed to be doing. The fact she'd seen her uncle doing it in the cart behind her just moments ago might have been a small hint as well.

Zim remained on edge, his fingers drumming impatiently against the windowsill. Gaz sighed, but otherwise did not attempt to argue with him again. Instead, she chose to settle against his chest, making small circles in his back with her fingers to try and releave the tension there. It went without saying that the past few decades or so had been long ones, filled with as many problems as the previous. The world, while submitted, was not quite as orderly in some regions as Zim and the rest of the world would like them to be. Lately, things were settling down. But Zim still had his doubts and suspicions. The rebellions hadn't died with Dib's little publicity stunt of a group, after all.

The fireworks continued.

A slow, keening whistle suddenly overwhelmed the music, which seemed to die gradually. Zim immediately sat up, Gaz slightly disgruntled at the abrupt movement.

"Mal, get away from the window!" Zim barked, gripping her arm and sitting her next to her mother. She shouted in complaint, rubbing the arm he had roughly handled.

"Zim, what the hell?" Gaz demanded, hugging the complaining child next to her side.

"Ssh!" He hissed abruptly, staring at the sky. "One second!"

The trail continued, the blue ember disappearing. When nothing happened, he became edgy, mumbling an apology to Mal as his eyes continued scanning the horizon. The crowd seemed to have fallen into confused mumblings as well.

A very small, stack noise was heard through the speakers, just inside the music. Zim strained his antennae to hear, even opening the window and sticking his head out to listen. Some people saw and began chearing, only making his job all the more difficult as his face appeared on the screen. He was forced to ignore all of that as he listened to the fourth rhythmic syllable seeming to be spoken in monotone.

It was only at the sixth beat that he realized what it was.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

He slammed the window shut, eyes wide in horror and fury as the ember in the sky suddenly reignited.

_Two._

He grabbed both of his family members and curled them against his body, Mal crying out in confusion. No one noticed MiMi and Gir dart out the window.

_One._

Had anyone in either carriage been looking, they might've seen the ember spark, brightly. Brighter than any firework that had gone off in the history of the world. A blue ball of light surrounded the ember and for a precise moment, the crowd was silent. And then it blinked, exploding from its inside, and sending out several ripples of electric blue precussion some 20 miles radius in ever direction.

The shock waves sent everyone, including the crowd, to their feet, causing hundreds of minor injuries instantly when the large lost their footing and landed on the small. People began screaming.

It did, in fact, knock over several structures of the parade, particularly the large ones. Although thankfully, they had enough space to fall in the streets instead of the people. It also had the effect of knocking over almost every carriage in attendance.

Including that of our protagonists'.

* * *

**_Thump thump . . . thump thump . . . thump thump . . ._**

_Ugh . . . what did I . . . ?_

Little hands made there way outwards, stretching, pressed flat against asphalt that was a bit too warm. There was something weighing almost unbearably down on one of her ankles. She could feel its hovering presence all the way to her torso before it disappeared, or was too far away for her to be aware of. Judging by the feel of it, it disappeared at an angle. She felt the ground shudder several times beneath her and briefly, the darkness disappeared.

_**RRNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_

She cried out weakly at the intense ringing in her ears, struggling off her stomach and onto her back. The twist necessary to dislodged herself did dangerous things to her ankle, but she managed. Her head, even in her bent position, brushed against the top of whatever solid object sat over her. Whatever it was, it was clearly solid. And flat. But as it might not remain so safe a structure for long, she worked at freeing her ankle with the urgency the action deserved.

It was dark, wherever she was, but she could feel a warm light shining on her back, the opposite side her ankle was pinned on. Awkwardly, she turned her head, the ringing in her ears allowing brief, muted screaming come through to her. She watched with brief horrified awe as great shadows, most likely those of people, danced against the remaining expanse of concrete.

_What . . . happened?_

She turned back around, wondering if maybe it _was_ safer to just stay put where she was. But a deep groan of the wooden structure above her made her realize if she did not move soon, she would be squished beneath what was- presumably- the back of the carriage she'd once been in. There was time to question later how exactly she'd been thrown _out_ of said vehicle, but as the wood slipped from whatever it was perched against, she saw quite clearly that now was not that time. Thankfully, the slide had dislodged her. And while slightly sore, she was more than capable of scrambling out from her little hole, cloak still surprisingly intact. She became thankful of its presence when it protected her from the broken fragments of glass littered around her. At last, having pulled herself from the tight squeeze of the slm exit, she exited into the world again.

And almost wished she had not.

Her vision swayed dangerously, kicking her feet out from under her throwing her back on her butt. Her spine collided with the now fully overturned carriage, formerly perched against- wouldn't you know it- another overturned cart. Presumably, her uncle's cart.

"_No_," she breathed, forcing her eyes away to the wrecked, once-elegant vehicle and back to her surroundings. It was too early to jump to such unfortunate conclusions. Surely, if she was alright, they had to be_ somewhere_. But if they were, why had they left her alone?

Crowds of people rushed in no particular direction. There was no clear current she could surmise. She was surprised to find many of the prettily dressed soldiers once lining the streets did continue to line the streets. But now, they lay in various troubling positions. Nothing abnormal, but as if they had suddenly developed narcolepsy all at once and collapsed to the floor like rag dolls. There was no visible wounds. What had happened here?

She became aware of how heavy her lids were, and she pressed a hand against the side of her head only to sharply remove it afterward with a hiss. She became surprised to find it was covered in blood. Her eyes narrowed. So one of her eardrums had popped. Huh. Well, that explained her inability to hear properly. Her body must still be trying to adjust. The pain did nothing to dispell her exhaustion.

_. . . I'm . . . so tired . . ._

"MIMI!"

"GIR!"

"_**RETRIEVE!**_"

"Mmm?" She mumbled, turning her head briefly to the left. A large shadow was starting to fall over her, the warmth of the sunshine disappearing. She looked up. Only to freeze up entirely. A small piece of float had been hurled towards her- or at least, in her general direction. She watched in surprise as two stripes darted across the sky, redirecting the projectile and sending it skidding away. MiMi and Gir dropped down from the sky, shaking themselves like animals after a bath before scurrying over obediently to where Mal sat.

"Hide and seek, trick of treat! Found you, found you!" Gir sang, nonsensically. Upon reaching her, his face fell. "Young Mistress- you're bleeding."

MiMi's eyes widened, hopping up on the carriage's side to get a better look at it. A brief beep rang out, and Gir's eyes narrowed, glowing red and tensing quite visibly. Mal yawned.

"_What happened?_" She mumbled out, hands going towards her eyes. She was pretty sure she got something in them.

But before she could, MiMi's tail slapped it away, harshly. Before Mal could scold her she jumped onto her lap, taking her hands gingerly and brushing formerly unseen glass that had stuck to them due to the humidity and sweat on her palms. Mal hissed in fear. She was lucky they hadn't dug into her skin.

"_Thanks,_" she whispered, petting her on the head gratefully. MiMi just nodded, ears perking up at the same time Gir's antennae did as they turned in unison. And upon seeing what they'd felt, Mal perked up just a bit too.

"Daddy!"

"Is she alright?" Zim demanded, Tak right behind him.

_So they were the two to call out to Gir and MiMi,_ she realized, as she was brought to her feet by her father's hands gripping her under her shoulders, brushing the debri off of her in more places she hadn't noticed. She leaned heavily on her good ankle. He noticed and picked her up without another word, touching the blood on her head. MiMi beeped again.

"It's only temporary," Tak assured Mal, squeezing her lightly cut hand. It didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. Which was good. "Your father protected you and your mother from the worst of the percussion."

"Where's Momma?" Mal asked them, noticing her absent immediately.

As if to answer her question, a loud scream was heard from a small crowd. She heard brief shooting noises in the distance before silence, and Gaz leapt gracefully out, throwing a large man to his knees. The crack was heard from there, and Mal flinched as he passed out from pain. No doubt his knee-caps were now broken. Dib followed soon behind, and they left the soldiers still upright to deal with the rest, for the moment.

"Mal!" They both shouted, running over. Mal flinched as grating metal was heard somewhere, making her spit taste briefly like blood. She manuevered to turn her head away and spat on the floor. She was not surprised to find the translucency dampered by a thick, red stuff. She lifted her wrist to wipe her lips clean, not daring to use her cloak, lest it have some other hidden secret on it.

Zim immediately turned her to him, ordering her open her mouth. She did so, and Gir perched on his shoulder, offering the light from his brightened eyes as he looked around.

"She bit her tongue," he said to Gaz, removing his fingers from her face.

Gaz brushed Mal's hair-_ which, she now realized with an OCD-esque panic, was completely ruined_- out of her face. "What happened to her head?"

"No concussion," Tak replied. "Her eardrum just popped slightly. She should be fine in a few hours."

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Dib asked her.

Mal hesitated, unsure of how to answer that. Her tongue stung, her ear wouldn't stop ringing, her head hurt, her vision continued sliding in and out at its own unpredictable convenience, her body ached, and her ankle felt as though it was just one large bruise. Yet, despite all of these formidable complaints, she simply mumbled out an, "I'm okay."

Zim smiled, kissing her gently on the cheek not covered in blood. "That's my tough little girl."

She smiled, if only slightly. Then the ground shook again.

"Shit," Dib hissed, removing a weapon from his back Mal could not see at this angle, almost as though he was trying to shield it from her. In fact, by the strange way he was angling his body, she was almost positive of it. Zim, as if he too was hiding it from her, turned to her mother.

"Gaz," he said. "Take Mal and get home. MiMi and Gir will escort you."

"I'm not just going to leave you here!" She snapped.

"I'll take her," Tak interrupted, shifting the child carefully into her arms. "You two need to be here more than anyone. Dib will stay here to assist you."

"And MiMi and Gir?" Zim questioned her.

Tak scoffed, as if he'd insulted her. "Will not be needed, thank you."

Zim and Gaz shared a brief look. The ground shook again, and there eyes narrowed, decisively. Zim turned sharply to Tak. "Take her inside the grounds and turn on the maximum security. Completely lockdown the forefront of the base for the next twelve hours. Then take her to the Medical Bay and do what you can until we get back. Can you do that?"

Mal felt her aunt's body steal beside her. "Of course."

Gaz stepped forward, murmuring quiet words of comfort to Mal. "You'll be okay, alright? We'll be home soon. Can you be a big girl until we get back?"

Narrowing her eyes determinedly, Mal nodded, sharply. Gaz kissed her on the forehead and turned to Tak, warningly.

"Take care of her, Tak." She ordered. Tak smirked.

"No one will lay a hand on her." She said. "No one will be able to catch us."

"Good." She said, turning her back dismissively on them.

Zim glared at her as the ground shook again, frustration evident in his voice. "Go! _NOW_!"

Mal watched with the cold breath of dread breathing down her neck as her aunt turned her back on them, racing faster than she had ever thought someone capable. Of her shoulder she watched her parents running in the exact opposite direction with her pets and uncle in tow, all holding something she could no longer see. She thought she saw jagged, metallic legs, not unlike a spiders, crawling from her father's PAK. But at the speed everyone was running, it was difficult to tell from the distance they'd already reached. Mal's fingers dug into her aunts arms, suddenly terrified as a hulking shape in the distance began appearing. Her head immediately popped up, the force of the wind tugging at the hood of her cloak. Tak, unpreturbed, simply gripped the weakly struggling girl tighter.

"MOM!" She shrieked. "DAD!"

There was that sound of grating metal again as she saw it move and lift what appeared to be a giant fist.

"NO!"

Its palm slamming into the ground created a small dust cloud, and that ever-familiar rumbling of the floor. Except so much greater now that he was so close. Tak ran harder, if that was possible, and Mal stopped struggling as she felt herself quivering with fear.

_This wasn't supposed to happen,_ she thought. _It's my birthday. Why is this happening? Is this my fault?_

Tak's hand suddnely shoved Mal's head into her shoulder, the other cradling her tightly against her as she veered, avoiding crowds and fighting against the unavoidable packs. Mal gritted her teeth and did not move, hyper aware that something bad was happening. Something bad _had_ happened, was still happening. And somehow, her family had been caught in the middle of it. This was bad. This was so very _bad_!

A sharp spin sent Mal's forehead into her aunt's bony shoulder, making her groan. She felt them skidding and peeked up, turning, to see a few large men with strange guns aimed at them both. People screamed.

"Stay right there, bitch!" One shouted, threateningly.

Tak snorted, releasing Mal's head and reaching for something in her belt. "Didn't anyone tell you its bad manners to swear with little ears present?"

Suddenly a large blast was sent there way. The men that could dropped to the floor, the other getting hit with the full impact of the blast. But by the time that they'd all recovered, Tak and Mal were gone once again.

"What was that?" Mal demanded, shocked.

"Keep it out of your head!" Tak shouted back. "Don't think about it!"

Thus ordered, Mal squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think about something else, burying her face into her neck and saying nothing else. The small earthquakes were getting more frequent. And Tak sensed something had gone wrong. Especially so when a thin shadow overtook them and Mal's head shot up, glanced directly behind them and choked on a gasp.

"AUNTY!"

Tak forced the girls head back down and jumped as hard as she could, leaping on to an overturned parade scructure before turning to assess. A large lamppost had fallen, probably due to the ground's excessive shivering. The nails had probably come out. She'd have to warn Zim about the damaged integrity of the buildings when they started repairs. For now, she still had a small ways to run.

But, unfortunately, she would never make it.

Standing above almost everything as she was, Tak made quite the target for a sharpshooter she almost missed. She did manage to see it and jump down just in time for it to nick her back, shreading a horizintal line in the small of it before disappearing. She hissed at the pain, feeling Mal's tense, alarmed body before forcing herself to shake it off and keep running. However, warning cries from said niece caught her attention, and this time she knew why before she turned.

The robot had made its way past Zim's line.

And, as she had guess, had found them.

"Damn it," she growled, anxiety lacing her frustrated tone.

Slow as before it began charging up its eyes and Tak remained perfectly still, feet dancing slightly, just in time for her to dart out of the way when it was too late for it to redirect and start running again. Her back burned, and her thighs ached. Nothing she couldn't handle. Nothing that would be particularly disheartening. This she had to assure herself as she continued swerving erratically in the thick street, ignoring the frightened cries of the thinning crowd around her. She couldn't think about them right now. She'd promised Gaz and Zim she'd keep their baby safe. So where were they _now_?

Tak's fingers fumbled on her belt, hitting a button before gripping Mal again. With any luck, she'd get to the castle with Mal fully intact. Worse case scenario, they took a slight detour getting there. And then, at least, there'd be one less robot on the street.

Or, you know, not.

Predecessed as always by that ear-splitting grating of steel, a large arm shot out, the elbow just barely knicking Tak. It was all the force needed to send her flying into the street with just barely the time and forethought to roll onto her back, keeping her bundle from being injured. Mal's screamed were muffled by her clothes, her knees squeazing her waist to keep from falling away from her protective embrace. That embrace might as well be her singular shot at survival. Giant metal monster or otherwise, Mal was in no condition to take care of herself at the moment.

Swallowing back the pain now screaming in her shredded back, Tak rolled stiffly to her feet, placing Mal gently on the floor.

"Stay here," she ordered. "Don't worry, okay? I'll take care of this."

Mal nodded vigorously, curling herself up against the parade structure as far as she could. She noticed the blinking on her aunt's hip, but said nothing of it, distracted at the weapon she picked up that had fallen on the floor. Her aunt raised it eye-level, muttering something not to repeated under her breath as she took aim of it. But by then it was too late.

The thing shot, and Tak disappeared in a mushroom of smoke, hurtling backwards. Mal lost her breath as she stumbled to her feet, watching her unmoving body flop lifelessly down the street.

"Uh-uh," she shook her head, spitting more blood from her mouth onto the floor. "No, no. _No._"

The monster turned its attention to her, hand outstretched. Mal grit her teeth as her ankle complained, beginning to dance backwards. Dad said go home, so home she needed to go. Home was safe. But what about her aunt? She couldn't just leave her here, but- in her state, what could she do?

_The weapon!_

Just before it hit her, Mal collapsed to the floor, the hand missing her entirely as she stumbled quickly over to her aunt's once again discarded device. She could already hear the beast charging its own up, and she fumbled with it before taking aim, realizing all too quickly that it would probably be all too late. Not to mention she had no idea how to use it. She fell to her backside, the useless machine falling into her lap, and closed her eyes.

She hoped her aunt would be waiting for her when it was over.

* * *

The explosion rocked the area, Gaz having lept away just in time for the robot to explode. She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, glad she had short hair that didn't hamper her vision. She really needed a shower.

"Where's MiMi?" Dib called to her, jogging over from his own place. They were all rather exhausted, him moreso than either she or Zim. Zim actually was trained for this kind of stuff so she really doubted _he_ was especially tired.

"Dunno, she took off halfway through the fight." Gaz said, carelessly. Then she noticed Dib stiffen. "What?"

"T-Tak," he stuttered out, hurriedly, turning in the direction of the estate. "What if she-?"

Gaz paled. "Oh god, _Mal_!"

A rapidly approaching black mass caught there attention as it flew overhead. Gir, bounding off Zim's shoulder as if he'd caught a scent, became increasingly agitated. Gaz realized his eyes had since stopped being cerulean almost the entire battle. She was honestly surprised he hadn't taken off with MiMi and stayed with Zim. Probably some sort of obedience thing-.

No longer as apparently obedient, Gir shot into the sky. A small black dot crashed helplessly to the ground before, some considerable seconds later, darting clumsily- but efficiently- after the robot. The three were content to let it retreat until they noticed what lay in its grip.

"NO!" Gaz shrieked.

Mal dangled, barely cloaked (_said cloak being shredded and blackened with blood and burns_), in its hand. Held in its fist like nothing more than a children's toy. She did not stir.

Gir and MiMi hounded after it mercilessly, Gir at one point dipping down to grab the sparking and obviously damaged robotic cat in his pursuit. Just how damaged was unclear, but by the fact Gir had decided she wasn't fit to run, it was probably a considerable amount. At this time Dib took off, in the opposite direction, terrified for his wife's well-being. True, his niece was in danger, but there was nothing he could do now that Zim and Gaz could not.

"MAL!" Gaz continued yelling, feet pounding on the debri-covered asphalt in vain as she raced after the quickly disappearing monster. Zim caught up quickly as she fell to her knees, fists slamming fitfully against the floor. He knelt, cradling her against him as the agony tore them apart together.

_Don't fail me, Gir_. He thought, angrily. _Don't you _dare_ fail me now!_

* * *

"Tak!" Dib cried, shaking her furiously. "Tak, come on. COME ON! Tak, please,_ please_ don't do this. Not to me. No. NO! TAK! WAKE UP! _TAK_!"

To describe the scene playing out on the now abandoned parade streets of Virginia would be, in every last aspect of the word, heartbreaking. A grown man reduced to solitary, excruciating emotions of terror and loneliness. No soul with an ounce of sympathy would have remained dry-eyed at the sight of it. He pressed his ear against her middle, shuddering as he reigned in his hysterics, listening for even an ounce of a beat from her squeedily-spooch. Tak couldn't be dead. She couldn't. She was always alright before!

_. . . There!_

And thankful to any merciful God that had allowed this, there was indeed a heartbeat. Faint, but growing stronger. As if Tak had rebooted herself, because initially, there had been nothing. A low, hollow groan tore from the damaged body of his lover as she opened her eyes, reluctantly.

"Tak?" He whimpered out. "Oh God, oh my god, Tak, don't ever do that to me again! Please!"

She hacked out a troubling amount of spit and blood before answering him in a voice just as damaged and unruly as the rest of her.

"Where's-" _cough_ "-_Mal_?"

* * *

Oh.

My.

Damn.

_(This is my jaaaaam!)_

Yes. I cannot have a story without SOMEBODY getting kidnapped, it seems. Like mother like daughter, we shall suppose.

So much story, only so much I am willing to write per chapter! I think I'm getting better at actions scenes, but, ultimately, I will let you all be the judge of that.

AND HOLY SHIT MAL SPEAKS. Yes, yes, she does. Mal is generally a quiet character not because she doesn't have a lot to say, but she just doesn't have to say it to get her points across. A lot like Gaz, in that sense of things. There was so much screaming in this chapter. And actually it did have an **alternate start** that I will put in the ending "Bloopers" chapter, just like I did in _Inevitable Takeover_. Because I have a feeling there's going to be a LOT of changes. Huzzah!

Till the next chapter!


End file.
